


Field Demonstration

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (not crowley), Ancient Rome, Demon Death, Gen, Holy Water, Theology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 21:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20627693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Gabriel has something to show Aziraphale that he's sure he's going to love.





	Field Demonstration

Holy water took most of the "religious community," as it were, by surprise. 

Most. 

Aziraphale wasn't sure at first why Gabriel had come for an extended stay on Earth, or at least extended for Gabriel, meaning days instead of minutes. He did know it meant something momentous was going to happen. Probably not pleasant, but momentous nonetheless. So he waited and watched, and on Gabriel's third day in Aziraphale's little flat in an insula in the northwestern quarter of Rome, the archangel proposed they go for a walk.

"I've got something to show you. You'll love it," he said. 

Rome was in the grip of a hot spell and Aziraphale was relieved to get out on the street. It might be dusty but there was at least a little breeze, and he loved the open-air markets, with their streetcorner speechmakers and their hawkers of all kinds of goods from all over the Empire. Such as it was, anyway; Aziraphale had the feeling it was in its final decadent days, and he wasn't sure what would come after.

Aziraphale knew Crowley was in Rome as well - less disgruntled about it this time than he'd been in Caligula's reign - and the angel had sent word via a young messenger that Crowley would do well to keep out of their way until Gabriel was gone. There hadn't been a reply, but Crowley knew which way an ill wind blew. 

Which was why, when Aziraphale spotted a head of scarlet hair and a dark linen chiton in the market, he didn't even have time to panic. Crowley peered at him over the rims of his little smoked-glass lenses and winked, then turned to his companion - another demon, with nasty open sores on his face and a horse-hair wig badly concealing a crown of horns - and whispered something in his ear. Then Crowley was off, the other demon unconcernedly still browsing through piles of vegetables at one lean-to market hut. 

Gabriel guided Aziraphale, a firm hand on his shoulder, onto a bench in the shade of a large water pipe. The water rushing overhead cooled the air here, at least. 

"Watch, there," Gabriel said excitedly, pointing at a man hawking some kind of potion on a corner. Aziraphale watched and tried to listen, picking out "Christian brothers" and "blessed by a high priest" and "a cleansing splash of holiness." 

Aziraphale still had some lingering questions about Christianity. He was, as a being who had gone with the Israelites out of Egypt, deeply suspcious of this new cult, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Gabriel had been directly instrumental in the life of Jesus from cradle to resurrection, even if he'd been conspicuously absent for the worst part. One didn't like to question the value of one's superior's work. 

The demon still in the marketplace, sensing some opportunity to tempt, had picked a fight with the potion vendor. Now people were gathering, clearing a circle around the two, anticipating a brawl. Aziraphale started to rise to calm it, but Gabriel kept him on the bench, hand heavy on his shoulder.

"Don't interfere," he said. "Just watch." 

The demon spat some kind of epithet at the potion vendor that Aziraphale didn't quite catch, but the vendor's voice was clear enough when he shrieked, "Foul beast of Satan! Back whence you came!" and uncorked the bottle, splashing the demon with what looked like ordinary water. 

There was a shriek of pain that made Aziraphale curl his fingernails against his palms, and the demon began to...to _dissolve_, steaming and shrinking until he vanished from sight. The crowd scattered in terror. 

At the potion vendor's feet there was a small, dark, sticky-looking stain in the dust. 

Aziraphale turned to Gabriel. "Some new way for humans to discorporate each other?" 

"Not each other," Gabriel grinned. "And not just discorporation. It's called holy water. Michael came up with it. Special priests can bless the water - so can we, I'll show you, it's fun for the first five minutes - and it'll be very important in the coming war."

"Ah yes. Any ETA on that yet?" Aziraphale asked, feeling very distant from this entire conversation.

"Not yet. Soon-ish. Closer than before, anyway," Gabriel said. "The point is, it doesn't just send demons back to Hell. It destroys them completely."

Aziraphale stared at him, shaken. "But that's - " 

"Efficient? Incredibly so. And I wanted you to see the first field demonstration, since you're being assigned to another hitch on Earth."

"Oh. I hadn't realized I was up for reassignment," Aziraphale said weakly. 

"You weren't, really. You're so good at...humans," Gabriel said, as if this was a skill, but not necessarily an admirable one. "Get to encouraging the holy water, if you would."

"Yes, of...of course," Aziraphale said quietly, staring at the stain. When he turned to ask Gabriel another question, the angel was already gone. 

He looked back at the potion vendor, who was now doing a brisk business, demonstrating how the holy water was harmless to humans. Beyond him, in the shadow of an alley, Aziraphale caught another flash of red hair, and gold eyes wide with shock. 

He stood and dusted down his robes, edging over to the mouth of the alley, pretending to examine the wares of a leatherworker's stall.

"What just happened?" Crowley hissed from the shadows.

"Not here," Aziraphale said. "Tomorrow, at the - " he almost said 'at the baths' before he thought better of it, " - breakfast place near yours." 

"What was that potion?" Crowley whispered hoarsely. 

"It's new. It destroys demons. Not just discorporates, completely destroys," Aziraphale whispered back. 

"How - " 

"No more of your questions, not here! Later. Gabriel might check up on me." 

Roughly 1500 years later, Aziraphale would play that moment back in his mind many times. Had the seed of Crowley's desire for a little carafe of the stuff been planted even then? Had he looked scared, or had he also looked...thoughtful? 

But in that dusty street, at the time, Aziraphale just felt relieved when Crowley nodded. "Tomorrow," the demon agreed. 

"And after tomorrow...might be best if you steered clear of this city for a while," Aziraphale added.

"I'll pack my bags," Crowley drawled, and disappeared into the maze of Rome.


End file.
